MOUNT NASHMAN
by SANDEFUR
Summary: That's the trail we use to take."


MOUNT NASHMAN

By SANDEFUR

"The things you do for your friends, especially on their birthdays." Grace complained.

Ahead of her on the trail, Adam briefly looked back and gave a head nod before refocusing on his climbing of the ever steepening trail. She hated that. A year ago Adam would have laughed or made a joke about Grace's complaining, but now she couldn't even get a smile out of her best friend.

It was nearly nine months since Elizabeth Rove's suicide, and today was Adam's fourteenth birthday. Every year he and his mom had some special event or activity planned, and this year was the one where they were going to climb to the top of Mt. Nashman.

Back in March, Adam had sent her a handmade birthday card that on the front showed Grace wearing a t-shirt with a clenched fist, and holding a protest sign that read: NO! When you turned the card over it showed her t-shirt had a smiley face and the sign read: YES? This bit of whimsy had reminded Grace that her dear friend was still there under all those layers of pain and silence. It had also jogged her memory about Adam's birthday plans. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but because Adam was finally showing interest in something, parental permission had been given for today's expedition.

Originally there were suppose to be three friends on this trip, with Steve Ramsey being the third member. He wasn't with them today, and Grace was glad. She never liked Steve—a rude, crude boy whom she considered a bad influence on Adam. Steve's interests centered around sports, cars, guns and a collection of dirty jokes that Grace always found offensive. Steve would also swipe the occasional beer from home and share it with Adam. He had also offered to share with Grace, but with her mother's example before her, Grace was too terrified to try even a single sip. Steve found that hilarious. And then there were the Playboys.

Steve's father had a subscription, and would throw out the old one when each new one arrived. Steve would recover the discarded magazine, and when he was "done" with it (Grace shuddered at the thought of what that meant), he would pass the Playboy on to Adam. Often Grace would find Adam in his shed practicing nude sketching, using the centerfold as his model.

On some level Grace understood nude sketching was an important part of an artist's development, but she would always criticize Adam for participating in the media exploitation of the female form. Truthfully though, the reason Grace hated those pictures so much was because they made her feel sad and inferior. Those incredible young women exuded beauty and sensuality the way the sun emitted light and heat, and even though Grace hated herself for falling into the media's trap, she couldn't help but feel envious. She wished she could look like that just once, but knew it would never happen.

The problem with the Playboys had ended. Adam lost interest after his mother's death, and of course Steve had stopped supplying the magazine after his friendship with Adam had suddenly closed. Starting in April, in the space of six weeks, Steve's mom had thrown her husband out of the house, had gotten a quickie divorce, had married her long time lover and had installed him as Steve's new stepdad. Mr. Ramsey, disgusted with the whole sleazy mess, had taken a job out of town and had washed his hands of his entire past life.

Ironically, the three of them now had something in common. They were all very angry at their mothers. Grace, for hers being an alcoholic, Adam, for his having left him and Steve, for his having broke up their family. Unfortunately, Steve took his anger out on every one around him.

Normally Adam would have been fully supportive of his friend, but lost in his own world of pain, he wasn't there for Steve when he needed him. Then in late May, over some incredibly trivial matter, Steve had beaten Adam to a bloody pulp. Carl Rove had raised such a royal stink about this, Steve had been sent for the summer to a camp for troubled teens—some place called Gentle Acres. That left just Adam and Grace on this hike up Mt. Nashman, which suited Grace for she had a hidden agenda this day.

After over three hours of steady upward climbing, they finally reached the top of the mountain. The mountaintop itself wasn't much to look at—a flat plateau about a hundred feet across, strewn with rocks and boulders and with sheer drop-offs on three sides. But the view! It was spectacular. As they approached the edge, being careful to stay behind the warning signs put up by the park service, they could see for miles in all directions. Down below, emerging from the forest, was Mercer Creek winding its' way through rich farmland. Beyond that were the nearly endless suburbs that abutted Arcadia. The tall downtown buildings of the city were clearly visible over twenty miles away.

Grace grabbed a disposable camera from her pocket and began taking snapshots—of the view, of Adam and with the camera held at arm's length, of her and Adam. That was enough, for Adam had his sketchbook out was excitedly trying to draw…everything. Smiling, Grace walked away, happy to see this first sign of enthusiasm in months.

While Adam drew with frantic quickness, Grace set out their picnic lunch. There was no shade on the mountaintop to relieve the hot summer sun, but the strong, steady breeze kept things comfortable. While Grace set out sandwiches, chips and cookies, she contemplated how she was going to ask Adam an enormous favor.

All through the school year a particularly bitchy girl named Angela had maintained a webpage called: Never Been Kissed. Every girl in the 8th grade had her picture there, and those who had kissed a boy had a check mark by their names. When the webpage debuted, over half the girls had check marks. By the time the school year ended, only two were still unkissed—that tall, geeky girl Glynis and herself. It was juvenile and stupid, but Grace was annoyed by the designation. Glynis she knew was very shy, but that wasn't Grace's problem. She was scared.

Grace had had trust issues for years, and the thought of trusting any boy to get close enough to kiss her, to touch her, made her skin crawl. With her ultra unfeminine ways, some of Grace's classmates were already speculating she might be a lesbian. Frankly, she had wondered about that too until last month when she had attended her first anarchist's meeting. One of the high school girls had gotten her alone and had tried to kiss her. Grace's level of freak-out had convinced her she was definitely not gay.

She knew Adam had never kissed a girl, and hoped he would welcome the chance to, like her, get it over with. The question was, how did she get the only guy she fully trusted and who was like a brother, to kiss her once without it getting really weird.

"Lunch time, and I mean now!"

She had used the tone of voice that told Adam she meant it. Otherwise, he would have just been lost in his art until nightfall. He joined her and ravenously dug in to the food. She was glad to see his appetite had returned.

"I'm going to start calling you Rove."

"Okay." Then after a long pause, "Why?"

"We start high school next month, and I want a 'thing' that will set me apart from the crowd. So I've decided to call everyone by their last name."

Adam gave her a look that spoke volumes. She didn't need any affectation to set her apart from the herd. He knew she was playing her old game of trying to get a rise out of him. It was amazing how well they communicated using so few words. Maybe if she just leaned in close to him, he would understand without her having to ask for a kiss. As much as she wanted to, Grace couldn't work up the courage to try. Their meal continued in its' usual silence until Adam startled her by speaking first.

"Mom would have loved this. Thanks Grace."

Grace was surprised to see tears in Adam's eyes. "Rove?"

"She left me a note."

"Oh, I see. What…" No, she wouldn't push.

"I never read it."

Yeah, that was Adam. She wanted to know more, but a big part of their friendship was respecting the boundaries each one put up. Adam stood and started to walk away without his sketchbook.

"Where are you going?"

"Gotta pee."

"Okaay, way too much information."

Grace busied herself with cleaning up the picnic debris while carefully keeping her back turned. It would be hard enough to ask Adam for this favor. If she ever got a glimpse of his…Mr. Happy, she'd never go through with it.

He had said, "Thanks Grace." Now why was that phrase suddenly running through her head? And why did it sound like, "Goodbye Grace"? Her blood turned cold. She looked around and saw Adam had gone beyond the warning signs. He was inches from the edge, and his expression told her he was making The Decision. Oh God, please not this. She could never reach him in time. She had to say something, anything to snap him out of it.

"Rove, I'll pose nude for you, if you want."

Did he hear her? Did he care? Slowly, Adam glanced over his shoulder—assessing her seriousness. She couldn't hesitate. He was on the edge in more ways than one. Quickly, she removed her windbreaker, t-shirt and bra. She then stood by one of the larger boulders and struck a dramatic pose.

Transfixed, Adam returned to her. He grabbed his sketchbook and sat cross-legged on the ground in front of her. With a look of obsessed concentration, Adam began drawing her. He took his time, making it perfect while Grace breathed a sigh of relief. Normally very self-conscious, Grace felt surprisingly free and open about the experience.

Adam finished the drawing by putting his initials at the bottom and proclaimed: "Done." He looked back to Grace and blushed furiously—only now seemingly aware that this was his friend Grace half-naked before him. Responding with embarrassment of her own, Grace turned around and hastily put her clothes back on. Only then did she go to look at the drawing.

"Oh God."

It was her, but in the idealized way Adam saw her—flawless, passionate and enchanting. For the first time in her life, Grace felt beautiful. Adam carefully removed the drawing from his sketchbook and handed it to Grace.

"Thanks, I'll cherish this, and keep it well-hid from my Dad. We better get started back if we are going to meet him on time."

They gathered their belongings and headed back down the mountain.

"Thanks Grace."

"We will never mention this day to anyone, ever."

"Cha."

THE END. PLEASE REVIEW.


End file.
